


All I'm Armed With Is Research

by moriann



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Future Fic, Gen, Gen Work, Mythical Beings & Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-02 16:11:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moriann/pseuds/moriann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia didn't initially plan on taking a gap year. Then sophomore year happened, her life became a macabre supernatural circus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I'm Armed With Is Research

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brilligspoons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brilligspoons/gifts).



> Thanks to Bridget for brainstorming and donutsweeper for beta.
> 
> Title is from a terribly out of context quote from Mike Wallace.

Lydia didn't initially plan on taking a gap year. She wanted to get to college, to finally be able to focus on her studies instead of the high school social squabbling and get an early start on her math research. After all, if she was going to beat Serre for the youngest recipient of the award, she had to get started right away. Then sophomore year happened, her life became a macabre supernatural circus, and the plans clearly needed reviewing.

Not the Fields Medal part. It would just take a few extra detours to get there.

––

The gap year trip to Europe started as a research expedition. None of the adults in Beacon Hills were of any significant help when it came to knowledge of magic and magical creatures, including those adults who _were_ magical creatures, so it would obviously fall to Lydia to come up with information if she wanted them to stop relying on last minute strokes of luck and coincidence instead of planning ahead.

She had a list of libraries and museum with significant collections of materials that might prove useful, but the first thing she learned on her trip was that while the Trinity College Library’s collection on Irish lore and myth might be impressive, it was completely useless if one is looking for something that wasn't entirely fictional. When Stockholm and Oslo turned out to be disappointments as well, she briefly entertained a thought about desperate measures and taking out an ad in the major newspapers, something along the lines of _Banshee looking for reliable ways to kill other mythical creatures of the night_ , but then she stuck gold in Cracow.

– 

She was there to check out the Jagiellonian Library, and was disheartened to learn that it was more of the same as with her previous stops – lots of mythology and legend but nothing that would tell her which parts of the manuscripts were the real deal. After a whole day of fruitlessly poring over the books, she left the building and was headed to her hotel when, from around the corner, she heard the approaching sounds of someone running down the cobblestones. In her experience, people dashing down a street, after dark and in the mist, never amounted to anything good, so she quickly took her pepper spray out of her bag, just in case.

What came around the corner was not a person, but a gruesome caricature of a woman, its wide open mouth showing enough teeth to rival a small shark, vaguely resembling the picture of a strzyga she saw in the Argents’ bestiary. Reflexively, she emptied the spray into the creature’s face, and then tore her silver headband off her head and used it to stab the part that she was quite sure was an eye. The creature let out a keening noise, convulsed, and fell to the sidewalk.

Just as it fell, the two people came barreling in from the same side street, froze up suddenly in front of the carcass and stared at the tableau in front of them: Lydia standing there uninjured and unperturbed despite the very dead supernatural creature in front of her, still leaking blood out of the wound left by her headband. Between the multiple weapons on display and the judgemental way they were eyeing her, Lydia was quite sure they were local hunters.

‘What?’ she asked. ‘It’s not like the airline would’ve let me bring onboard a silver _knife_.’  
––

The sources she had seen so far had three different descriptions of strzygas. They could be just heralds of death, and therefore not inherently dangerous; they could be victims of a plague, risen from their graves, looking disgusting but mostly harmless; or they could be a more lethal kind of a vampire, who did not only drink their victims' blood but also feasted on their internal organs. With her previous encounters with supernatural creatures, she really shouldn't have been surprised it was the last version that turned out to be true.

On the upside, Lydia now knew two local hunters and she was going to interpret the situation as them owning her for taking care of their job in her spare time. Maybe they’d pay her back in information.

–– 

Armed with the contact details of a few people who might be able to help her, she decided to take a few days off in Paris to wash off the stench of monster bodily fluids and relax. Though her calm mood only lasted until the second day of her stay, when she came down to the hotel lobby and spotted a familiar face sitting in one of the armchairs.

'When I agreed to leave a copy of my itinerary with Danny and send you all updates, it did not mean _Please ask someone to stalk me across Europe_. Also, for someone as skilled as you at following people, this is rather unsubtle,' said Lydia, dropping her bag on the table in front of Allison.

'Maybe I'm not aiming for subtle,' Allison lowers the newspaper she was hiding behind and grins up at her. 'Maybe this is a very roundabout way of getting you to invite me to tag along.'

Lydia narrowed her eyes.

‘And the timing is not, by any chance, because of last week? Because I can handle myself just fine on my own.’

‘Maybe I just got jealous and wanted to shoot some local creatures too,’ said Allison. ‘Why should you get to have all the fun?’ She waited a moment for a reply and when all she got was Lydia’s raised eyebrow, she added, 'I know how to get the two of us into a private library in Rouen that has manuscripts of the diaries of a 17th century Italian hunter.'

‘When in doubt, try a bribe, huh?’

Allison’s answer was to grin at her. ‘If it works,’ she said.

Lydia considered it for a moment, but she knew she probably gave herself away when she didn’t ask her to leave right away.

'Shopping first. That strzyga has ruined my favorite coat and my most comfortable pair of heels, and I'm not staying in these sneakers for any longer than I absolutely have to.'


End file.
